The 175th Annual Hunger Games: Choice is an Illusion (SYOT: CLOSED)
by Momsie.Popsicle
Summary: For the 7th Quarter Quell there will be no volunteers allowed, allies will be pre-assigned and there will be one type of weapon provided at the Cornucopia (SYOT: CLOSED) This SYOT will also be having a SYO Sponsor, stay tuned for details (Note: Cover Art started out as a painting from Leonid Afremov called "The Sun of January" to which I added the cornucopia and the knife)
1. The Card

I'm walking through the market when the large television in the square switches on for a mandatory announcement form the Capitol. President Rayne steps up to the podium and smiles at the citizens. Beside her an avox holds a small box. "Greetings citizens of Panem. Today we read the card for the 7th Quarter Quell." She pulls an old yellowed envelope from the box and pulls the flap open. "As a reminder to the citizens that their choices lead to their destruction, this year the citizens will have no choices. There will be no volunteers, all those reaped will enter the arena." President Rayne sets down the card and looks out at the Capitol citizens. "Welcome to the One Hundred and Seventy Fifth Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor."

(This is my first SYOT, I will try to post as often as I can but I have 4 WIP here on and other original work WIP. Thanks to JMS2 who inspired me to tackle a SYOT and from whom I borrowed most of the tribute form from)

 **This SYOT is now CLOSED for tributes. If you still want to be involved/add characters, watch for the call for sponsors. Chapter one will be updated with sponsorship information closer to the date that the Games begin.**

Note to readers: I will be unable to update this for a couple of weeks due to a prior obligation, but I WILL continue this story and be back with District 4 introductions as soon as I can. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!


	2. The List

**Newly added District 13 Tributes! - This is where I will also post the Submit your own sponsor information when we get closer to the Gong...**

* * *

 **District 1 F:** Silk Xibalba, 18

 **District 1 M:** Cary Sparks, 18

 **District 2 F:** Karenna Jenner, 17

 **District 2 M:** Amino Jenner, 17

 **District 3 F:** Jamee Boltz, 13

 **District 3 M:** Millard Small, 13

 **District 4 F:** Emma "Armstrong" Hemmings, 18

 **District 4 M:** Tyler Austin, 18

 **District 5 F:** Ariane Willows, 16

 **District 5 M:** Cordin Lee, 17

 **District 6 F:** Cerrin Blakeley, 14

 **District 6 M:** Rictor Cannings, 14

 **District 7 F:** Hermina "Minnie" Kava, 15

 **District 7 M:** Marot Sanders, 17

 **District 8 F:** Aisha Swanson, 16

 **District 8 M:** Aiden Cuill, 17

 **District 9 F:** Annika Thindrel, 17

 **District 9 M:** Rye Dekkerman, 16

 **District 10 F:** Selene Brooks, 18

 **District 10 M:** Austin Schwechler, 18

 **District 11 F:** Emily Fields, 15

 **District 11 M:** Leone Dredd, 15

 **District 12 F:** Cleopatra "Cleo" Quincy, 16

 **District 12 M:** Cole Annison, 17

 **District 13 F:** Eva Tilliman, 12

 **District 13 M:** Thomas Jessup, 13


	3. District 1 Reaping

**I may end up changing the rating of this story from T to M if it ends up having more swear words and adult content than I originally thought.**

 **Silk POV**

I should have gotten up twenty minutes ago, but instead I lay in bed running my hands over the luxurious fabric under my naked body. If my mother knew I slept without any bed clothes she would feel scandalized, which is funny because sleeping in the nude is probably the activity she should worry the least about. I've gone skinny dipping several times and a few times I've slept under the stars out in Fraser's meadow with nothing beneath me but the grass. It's not that I'm trying to be sexy or anything. I just love the feel of the wind and water and silk against my skin. To my knowledge, no one has ever seen me do these things.

"Silk!" My mother calls from down the hall. "You need to come on in to breakfast! We're leaving for the reaping in half an hour."

The reaping. This will be my last and it's the first one I'm really worried about. It's not that I'll have any more slips in the ball than any other 18 year old girl, I'll have only the six, but this year they aren't allowing volunteers, so if I happen to be selected there will be no hope of some glory hungry idiot coming to my rescue by putting her own name forward. Even though my chances of being reaped have been pretty low, I've trained for the possibility that I could end up in the arena. I'm no great beauty, the kind that has sponsors tripping over themselves for, so I know that I'll need to have a skill in order to have a fighting chance. If I'm not selected this year, I don't know what use I'll have for my keen balance and deft hands. It's not like throwing knives is something I'll do on a regular basis or anything. At least if I go into the medical field like my father I'll have a use for my knowledge of medicinal plants.

"Silk!" Mother's voice grates at me and I throw my silk sheets aside. My reaping outfit is ready and I bathed the night before, so getting ready takes me all of five minutes. I let my straight blonde hair fall loose, not bothering to put it in a braid or anything and I don't bother with make up. I feel fresh and natural. The blue ruffles of my dress hug my slightly too curvy hips and dance like water around my knees. I slip into matching baby blue shoes and head to breakfast.

My younger brother, Garnet, is already seating and picking at his eggs. This will be his first reaping, he looks a little freaked out. I knuckle his hair and he brushes my hand away.

"You're in a good mood," he says. "Don't know why. You know it's reaping day, right?"

"Yeah, I know. But come on," my false bravado holds up and I can barely make out the smallest of a quiver in my voice. "There are thousands of names in the bowls, what are the chances that either of us will be reaped?"

"But if they do draw our names, no one can volunteer." He protests. "You're not even a little bit worried?"

"Well, I guess that possibility is the reason Daddy has us train every day." I pick up one of a handful of knives that are always around and throw it at the bull's eye that is painted on the opposite wall. Throwing knives at breakfast has been part of our training for as long as I can remember. The knife sticks into the white circle just a fraction of an inch outside the bull's eye. "Beat that!"

Garnet grins and throws his own knife. It sticks right next to mine, just inside the center dot. I knuckle his hair again and sit down to eat. "Nice job, Booger."

He sticks his tongue out at me and I return the gesture, then we each settle into our scrambled eggs.

By 10:00 we are ready to go to the square for the reaping. Since we're the first district to be reaped, we have to get an early start. Normally we start at 9:00, but since volunteers aren't allowed this year, the process is much more streamlined.

I stand in the square with hundreds of other girls from the district. I'm standing in the back corner of the back row. On reaping day, just like every day, I tend to melt back into the background. I look around at the other 18 year old girls, most of them have more curves than me, their hair is fuller, they wear make up. Compared to them I feel mousy. But that's not such a bad thing. For one thing I don't have to worry about staying on top of fashion in order to stay with the popular crowd. For another, I'm not usually a target for the jerks. There was that incident a few years back with Leopold, but I'm sure he's about over that.

Mayor Cavanaugh walks up on the podium and welcomes us to the 175th hunger games and reads the Card to remind us of the importance of this years Games. She introduces the victors of previous games, all 42 of them, and the 27 living ones each wave from their elevated seats on the stage. Because of our victors, the reapings from districts 1, 2 and 4 will still take longer than the other districts, but in a few minutes, things are under way.

Chocolat Bluebells, our escort saunters up to the mic, adjusting his lavender tie and shrugging the shoulders of his violet suit on the way. "Welcome to the 175th Hunger Games and the 7th Quarter-Quell. May the odds," he winks over at the girls waiting to be reaped. "Be ever in your favor." A couple of the girls standing in front of me stick their manicured fingers in between their lips and wolf whistle at him. He grins and looks over to the camera. "Ladies first."

He walks to the big glass bowl with slips of paper and pulls one from the middle. He gives the paper a little kiss then holds it out in front of him.

"Silk Xibalba" he croons into the mic.

No! You've got to be kidding me! My jaw drops and I stand still in shock until the girl next to me nudges my shoulder. "Silk!" She whispers. "Get up there!"

I step out from the back and start to make the long walk up to the platform. I hear snickers coming from the 18 year old's section and look over to see Emerald. She's sneering at me and I hear her say in the loudest whisper in the world, "Oh look, poor Burlap is gonna go get killed off in the arena." I plaster a smile to my face, determined not to let anyone see how upset I really am. Despite myself, I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I resist wiping it away and walk up on the stage next to Chocolat.

 **Cary POV**

The metal cap on my windproof lighter flicks back and I scrape the flint wheel across my jeans, sending little sparks flying at the wick. It takes a few swipes before the wick lights and I flip the lighter around, tapping it back and forth from hand to hand, the flames dancing around my fingers. It's the same routine I do every time I'm nervous. Whether I'm getting ready for a test at school, drumming up the courage to talk to girls, or reaping day. One of those I don't have to worry about anymore, ever since Grace and I started dating, and after today, I won't have to worry about reaping day anymore. But today, the wicked dance of the flame provides a mesmerizing calm that soothes my nerves.

I pinch at the flames and fun my fingers through them, letting the warmth caress me. I respect the flames and understand their strength. A single match has the power to burn down an entire village, after all. With a flick of my wrist, I snap the cover back onto the lighter and let the hot metal tin drop down on my bed.

If it's going to be my last Reaping day, I'm gonna make sure this one is a blast. I grab the folding step stool from the corner of my closet and climb up to retrieve the box on the top shelf. It's not like my mom and dad couldn't reach the shelf themselves if they wanted, but since I can't reach it without the stool, they never even think to look up there. Inside the box is a decent collection of small fireworks. Bottle Rockets, Lady Fingers, Black Cats, Roman Candles, cherry bombs and M-80's, things that I can fit into my pocket and don't need a lot of set up. It won't be a spectacular display, but if I'd thought of it earlier I could have bought some really decent stuff.

My reaping outfit is a little more casual than it's been in years past, with the cargo pants and an untucked button up, but if I'm gonna sneak a bunch of fireworks into the square, I'll need the pocket space.

It's already quarter to nine when I enter the kitchen and my parents are drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. They've already put the finishing touches on their reaping day outfits. My dad is decked out in a suit. A suit! At nine in the morning! In 90 degree weather! Not that mom is understated or anything. She's wearing a slim, cream colored dress with light brown trim, matching shoes, a diamond bracelet and diamond earrings. Diamonds. They don't need to flaunt our money, but they seem to enjoy it. You'd think with all the money they have to throw around, they would have done something about my teeth earlier; ever since they first came in they were just a little too big, too prominent. You don't get a nickname of Jackrabbit with normal teeth. I have braces now, but the name stuck. Even my friends call me Jack half the time. If I hadn't learned to roll with it when I first got the name, there could have been some serious bullying. At only 4'8" I'm already a target for some of the bullies, but with my parent's money, no one wanted to get on their bad side. I gotta say though, having money really does have it's perks.

There's a tray of pastries on the table, fresh from the bakery and still warm. I grab a few chocolate croissants, a canoli and some donuts, tossing them all in a basket. "I'm gonna head over to see the guys." I say on my way out the door.

"Alright Cary," dad says, and turns the page in his paper. "We will see you in the square."

"Don't be late Darling." mom says, absorbed in the society pages.

Neither of them bothered to look at me. I know they love me, but sometimes I wonder if they'd notice if I just took off. After high school I already plan on heading to the Capitol to get a job with the television crews. I've already started building up my portfolio. My friends and I have made a couple of short films, but our pièce de résistance is the full length feature we made last summer. It's a pretty decent zombie flick. I was the lead script writer and was in charge of the pyrotechnics. After the reaping we've arranged with the Mayor to let us air it in the square, since the big screens will already be up and on.

I head straight to the clock tower, which is our normal hang out. The lock on the door busted off years ago and since the clock never really needs any maintenance, no one bothered to replace it. We head up into the top of the tower and sit among the gears and cogs. As many times as we've got up the tower, I don't even lose my breath anymore, even though the thing is about 6 stories tall. Today is no different and when I get to the top, I see Grace is already there. She's laid out a blanket and has a big bottle of orange juice.

I grin at her and set my basket down at the edge of the blanket. She stays seated and I cross to her and kiss her full on the lips. I like kissing her when she's sitting down. Our difference in height isn't noticeable when she's sitting down.

"Get a room!" Martin calls out behind me and I turn to see him mounting the top step with the rest of our entourage. Joe lets out a shrill whistle, Alice giggles, Preston screams about his eyes needing bleach and Charles pretends to vomit on the floor.

"We had a room," I reply. "If you leave we can get down to business." I make a show of starting to unbuckle my pants and Grace smacks my hand.

"It's okay Jackie, We don't want to make all these guys jealous." Grace winks at me and I grin, sitting down next to her.

After yucking it up for a minute, each guy trying to say how much bigger than the others he is, everyone sits down and we lay out our reaping day breakfast. Added to the pastries and juice, we have some sausages, a bowl of blueberries, a carafe of coffee, fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Preston looks a little shamed by only bringing toast among the array of luxury items but no body says a word about it. We know his family isn't as well off as the rest of us. The first thing I grab is a piece of toast, smiling genuinely at Preston.

For the next hour, we gorge ourselves, eating everything but the canoli. We clean up our breakfast and head to the square. It's a little early, but that suits us just fine. On our way, I hand the canoli to Martin and he carefully scoops some of the cream filling out, not all of it, just enough to make a little tunnel inside. He licks his fingers and hands the pastry back to me. I glance over at Grace to see if she's paying attention, but Charles and Preston are doing a good job of keeping the girls distracted. Grace doesn't exactly like my fascination with blowing things up, and normally, Alice would be right there with her in disapproval, but this year, she has agreed to be an accomplice. I gingerly tuck an M-80 into the tunnel, making sure to keep the wick dry and pass the dessert over to Joe.

We need to make a distraction so that the Peacekeepers around the square don't pay attention to him tucking it under the mayor's chair. It's going to be lit by Alice, right after the boy's name is called. I see the perfect opportunity for a diversion and when we're going to get in the roped off areas, I trip myself on one of the stanchions and pull a whole section of rope down. Martin and Preston, wise to my idea, come over to help me up and get tangled in the rope as well. By the time we're all untangled, Joe is by our side and smiling.

Grace leans down and I give her a kiss then she and Preston head to the sections for 17 year olds. Alice turned 19 last fall so her head is off the chopping block. She's been filming the reapings from behind the ropes for the last 3 years, even though the Capitol has camera crews to do it. She grabs her camera and finds the best place to film the reaping. The rest of us head to the 18 year old males section and wait for the ceremony to begin.

Our escort, Chocolat, calls the girl's name. Silk, a pretty girl who's always been kind of an outsider. I watch her march up to the stage, holding her head up high, despite the tear I see streaking down her face. Then Chocolat announces that it's time for the boy tribute and I can't help grinning. The wholly Moley canoli, as we've come to call the prank, is going to really make this a reaping to remember.

The violet suit reaches in to the bowl and I lean forward slightly and out into the aisle so I can see the stage better, ready for the canoli to explode. "Cary Sparks!"

The canoli doesn't explode. It just sits there like a lump of pastry. We didn't really talk about what we would do if one of us were reaped. A hand pats my shoulder as I step out into the aisle, Charles smiles at me, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. I smile back nervously and join Silk on stage.

Chocolat stands back and the mayor steps up to say her final words. As she finishes her speech a small explosion rocks the stage behind her and glops of cream and dough fly everywhere, a chunk of it landing right in the mayor's hair. Classic.

* * *

 **Silk POV**

Inside the justice building I wipe the smears of cream off my dress and try to compose myself in the minute that I have before my family comes in. My anger at having my dress splattered with goo helps in washing away the fear that I had at being reaped. I finally wipe away the tears that leaked out and put on a winning smile just as the door opens.

Garnet runs right into my arms and hugs me tight. I hold him and ruffle his hair a little. "Come on Booger, I'll be fine." I plant a kiss on his head and he chuckles a little.

"Yeah, as long as you don't have to throw any knives," he says sniffling as he straightens. "You're terrible at it."

He steps back and mom takes his place, holding me tight. "You can do this, you know. You can win it. It's in your blood." Mom is talking about my great grandpa Char's older brother Maxx. He was one of the winners that the mayor announced. We don't usually acknowledge our relation to him because a few years after winning he went a little crazy and was found eating a dead rat on the steps of his house in victor's village. I give my mom a wry look and she smiles. "I don't mean the going crazy part, but you can win the games."

"Of course she can win the games," Daddy says matter-of-factly. "If she tries." Daddy comes over and hugs me and mom at the same time. "Just remember your training."

"We don't even know what weapons they'll have in the arena. What if I haven't trained with what they give us?" I'm a little worried about the games. I'm not wet behind the ears, but there are going to be 23 kids gunning for me and I'm sure that some of them will be better trained than me.

"That's what the next couple of weeks are for. Just learn whatever they can teach you and be smart." Daddy kisses my head and he and mom let me go.

"Here," mom says, taking off her silver necklace. "I want you to wear this." her voice is thick with emotion and I know mine will fail me if I try to say anything. The necklace was a gift from my father when they were dating. The oval pendant has a pearlescent piece of seashell set in it, with a tropical sunset intricately painted on it. I nod and she loops it around my neck.

We say goodbye and I sit down on the couch to wait out the rest of the hour. I don't expect any more visitors. After about five minutes though, the door opens and I look up to see who is coming in. Leopold. Shock runs through me, hot anger on it's heels.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, venom in my voice. I don't bother standing up.

"I just- Well, I wanted to- I mean-" he stammers a bit looking nervous. I'm pleased that I have this effect on him. It can be a dangerous thing to trifle with a girl, and to let it slip after 2 months of dating that you only went out with her because you lost a bet. Something like that, well, it could make a girl go a little crazy. I remember kicking him out of my house, screaming at him till I was hoarse and then wallowing for a little while, before I learned how to channel my anger. That year I became an expert knife thrower and learned a lot about plants from my dad, the doctor who happens to know all their medical uses.

I can't help it if he happened to have started having a severe case of diarrhea for the next few months after that. And I can't help it if that could have come from a plant that grows in my back yard, or that I happened to be volunteering in the school cafeteria that school year. Though, the knife that flew into his backpack one day, that might have been my fault. He looks so lost now trying to talk to me that I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

"If you've come to apologize, you're about three years too late." I say, trying to speed up his lame goodbye.

"It's not that," he says. "Well, it is, but- I just-" I must be glaring at him because he swallows hard and looks away to gain nerve. "I am sorry for what happened. I just wanted you to know that I started going out with you because of that stupid bet, but after we went out that first time, I really did like you."

The venomous reply that I had prepared stilled on my lips. _What?_ "You- Wait, what?" blindsided by the confession, I sit there stupefied.

"I really did like you. You're not like the other girls around here. I mean yeah, you're kinda plain, but you are pretty in a way, and you're smart. Really smart." Having gained his voice, Leopold starts rambling. "And funny. Some of the stuff you said..." He trails off and smiles.

My stomach starts to twist, I wonder if I overreacted to the bet. I mean we were kids after all, and it's been a long time, maybe he's not the jerk I thought her was. Before I know it, Leopold is sitting next to me, or rather, almost on me, and he's kissing me. I'm stunned and sit frozen for a second, but his hand trying to reach down my pants jerks me back to reality and I shove him away hard. He sits back and chuckles, the shy stammering boy replaced by a slick, confident man who is sure that he's going to get what he's going for. An act. It was an act and I fell for it.

"Awe, come on honey, don't tell me you're still such a stick up the ass prude that you don't want a little bit of play before you go off and get killed." He leans toward me again, his hand immediately going to my breast in a hard grip. I push him off and he re-positions himself, trying to get in between my legs. Panic rises like bile and I thrash out at him, screaming at the same time. My knee connects with his groin right when the door to the rooms opens and two peacekeepers come into the room and pull him off of me. One of them smashes the butt of his rifle into Leopold's head. "Bitch!" Leopold hollers at me as he's carted off.

It takes a second for me to calm my heart rate and steady resolve settles inside me. No one really thinks I can win this thing, but I'm going to prove them wrong. And when I come back here, I'm going to beat the shit out of every single person who has ever screwed with me, starting with that asshole.

I hear popping sounds coming from the other side of the wall and wonder if maybe the peacekeepers have had to shoot someone over on the boy's side. This Hunger Games is already starting off with a bang.

 **Cary POV**

Hugs have never been a thing for my family, so when mom wraps me in her arms as soon as she walks into my room in the justice building, I stand still for a second before awkwardly hugging her back. My dad restrains himself, but I can tell he's upset. No one from my family has ever been reaped before. His great uncle had his name drawn in the reaping several years before, but another boy volunteered.

"Cary, I'm sure we can make this go away. I can grease the Mayor's palm, the president, whoever we need to. There's no reason for you to go into the games." I thought I was doing a pretty good job masking how much I am freaking out about being reaped, but my dad must be paying more attention than he ever has before if he's willing to bribe someone to change the games. I look at him, the surprise causing my mask to falter a little. I consider his offer, but it feels just a little too cowardly and my stomach roils at the idea of hiding out in daddy's pocket like a baby. I'm 18, I'm a man, even if I don't quite look it.

I square my shoulders and set my jaw. "It's ok dad, I'll be fine. I can win this you know."

"This has nothing to do with you." he says with a hard edge in his voice. "The nerve of them drawing a Sparks name. The money that we put into this town." Crestfallen, I realize that his offer was about his pride, not about protecting me. What an idiot I am to think for a minute that he'd actually thought about me. Doubt about being able to win the games creeps in. If my own father is dismissing me, and my mother is hugging me goodbye, I could actually die in the arena. Oh, God, oh God! "I'm going to go talk to Cavanaugh. That woman needs to learn that she can't run this town without Sparks money."

"Dad!" I shout, surprising everyone in the room, including me. "You're not going to talk to the mayor. My name was drawn, that's all there is to it. Yeah, I might die in the arena." I swallow hard and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, they feel the fireworks in the pockets and I grin. "But if I do go down, I"m gonna take a lot with me. I got more fire than you think."

Maybe they're still shocked that I dared to yell at my dad, maybe they are resigning to the idea of losing their son, or heck, maybe they're thinking that I can actually win. Either way, they nod at me and say goodbye.

Not ten seconds after they leave, the door bursts back open and my entourage rushes in. Grace is leading the pack and pulls me into a hug, this one isn't awkward and I hug her wholeheartedly. I tuck my face into the hollow of her neck and inhale deeply, trying to imprint her scent in my memory. I kiss her and she kisses me back; for once the peanut gallery is silent.

After a minute, Grace releases me and we all sit down. We're all quiet for a few minutes until Martin breaks the silence. "Shit, man."

"So what are you gonna do man?" Joe asks.

"What do you think I'm gonna do?" I reply, flipping my lighter open. "I'm gonna burn 'em to the ground."

Martin and Charles nod approvingly.

"I hope you're ok with me triggering the wholly moley canoli," Alice says. She smiles at me, but I see her chin wobbling. She looks like she's trying not to cry.

"No," I say, grinning at her. "It was great. Did you see the cream hit Mayor Cavanaugh in the back of the head?"

"That's nothing," says Charles. "Vapor got it right in the face."

"You guys are the ones who exploded a canoli all over the mayor and head peacekeeper?" Grace was incredulous. "And Alice, you helped these idiots?"

"Well, it's not like it was my idea!" Alice says. "Cary wanted to make a big bang since it's his last … reaping."

The tears that Grace was holding at bay burst through at that. We all gather her in and comfort her. A scream from the other room draws all of our attention and Joe walks over to the door to see what's going on. The peacekeeper at the door rebuffs his efforts and he returns with a shrug. I reach into my pocket and pack of black cats. "We were gonna do this after the movie, but I don't want to miss it, wanna set these off now?"

"Inside?" asks Alice.

"Why not?" I say. "Biggest thing I brought were roman candles, we can just shoot those out the window." Alice glances at Grace, the sparkle in here eye begging permission, even though she's two years older than Grace. Grace smiles and I pull the collection of fireworks out of my pockets. "Preston, go bar the door. You know that the peacekeepers are going to come in here the second these go off."

"Well, here," Martin says. "Since we might not get a chance after we set these off. Take this." Martin removes a silver pin from his shirt and pins it to mine. It's custom made from the day we finished our film, Super 8. The pin has the number 8 in brushed bronze set in a silver circle.

I smile at Martin. "I'll give it back when I get home," I say.

"Ok, enough of this sappy stuff," Charles says. He pulls out his lighter and sets off the pack of black cats and tosses them into an empty trash can. It goes off like popcorn and as predicted, the door handle rattles. I grab a roman candle, run to the window and light it, letting the color bursts fly out the window. Everyone else grabs fireworks and we light off as many as we can before the peacekeepers break through the barrier that we put up.

When they get in they remove all of my friends, and I don't get a chance to really say goodbye. One of the peacekeepers posts himself inside the door and glares at me. I flick my lighter open, light it and flick it closed, then I do it again. I spend the rest of the hour doing this. The familiar action numbing my mind to the worry about actually going into the arena.

 **What do you think so far? Any favorites? Predictions? Do you want me to separate chapters for the male and female tributes so that they are shorter but come out faster, or keep them together? Thanks for reading!**


	4. District 2 Goodbyes

**As per the suggestion of a few readers, due to the lengthy detail and attention I give to each tribute, I will not be doing a reaping for every district. Instead I will overlap the events leading up to the ringing of the gong. (Don't worry, all tributes will get to have their story told, they may just be out of order) District 2 will focus on Goodbyes and the trip to the Capitol. Enjoy...**

 **Karenna POV**

Of all the stupid dumb luck. Last summer I decided that I had trained well enough to volunteer for the Games, but I was beat out by another girl. This year, with the Quarter Quell they announced they weren't taking volunteers. I was so furious that I threw my anger into my training and am now pretty damn good with an axe. Then the stars align and I am reaped! A rush of hot adrenaline coursed through me, only to be doused by the announcement of the male tribute from Two, Amino Jenner. I might not get along that well with my twin, and we couldn't be more different, but I love him and am not looking forward to having to kill him in the arena. Hopefully someone else does it for me and will save me the trouble.

Because we're related, the Mayor went ahead and had us say our goodbyes together. Mom holds us so tight that I can hear Amino gasp for air next to me.

"Both my babies are in the Games." Mom says and then releases us. She cups each of our cheeks and smiles. "You two work together and you'll make it far, one of you might even win." Mom is looking at me when she says this. I know parents aren't supposed to have favorites, and mom is trying to give hope to us both, but I know that she's meaning me. I've been training, she's been coaching me. I wish that the Mayor would have kept the goodbyes separate so that mom could speak freely. It's not like she would tell me to kill Amino or anything, just that she wouldn't have to put on a face of thinking he can make it.

"Karenna, you watch out for your brother in there." Daddy says, not caring if he hurts Amino's feelings. I think for a second how much of a burden watching out for someone else can be. In the reruns of previous Games, they frequently show the star-crossed lovers one and I marvel at how Katniss struggled to protect Peeta. I always swore that I'd never do something so stupid when I finally made it to the Games, and here I am with my own anchor.

"I don't need anyone to watch over me," Amino seems more angry than hurt when he talks. "Especially not my _little_ sister." Little. Please, he was born maybe three minutes before me, and I'm actually almost an inch taller than him, and with heels, I tower over him. It irks me that he always refers to me that way, emphasizing the "little".

"That's fine," I say, my voice getting an edge. "Like I want to be tethered to my useless _big_ brother anyways." I put even more emphasis on big than he put on little, showing him that I don't think he's all that big. I mean, I think I might even be a bit more muscular than him. Not that he ever dresses in a way to show off any muscles he might have. Like now, he's wearing a long sleeve gray button up and black slacks with a white tie and black dress shoes. He looks very dapper and smart, not at all like he's about to go into the Games. I, at least, look sassy and fierce with my combat boots, flirty black dress with the slender silver trim at the waist creating the illusion of curves that aren't nearly as pronounced as I'd like. The short sleeves show off my toned arms, and my legs are killer, if I do say so myself. His brown hair is cropped short and styled simply with the front tips flipped up. I spent at least an hour working on my long blonde hair applying mousse, gel and hair spray, curling and crunching so that it looked tousled and fresh, like I'd rolled out of bed with just a little bit of bedhead. I put on layers of make up, preparing for the cameras, he put on his glasses. Boys have it so easy.

"Maybe if you had done more training we wouldn't be so … concerned." Mom says gently. More training? Try _any_ training, I doubt he's ever even picked up a sword.

"I'll be fine." Amino says and storms away to look out the window at the reaping celebration going on out in the street.

Mom and Daddy look at him for a minute, their sadness pulling their mouths into frowns. I don't know whether their obvious worry over him as a sign that they care more about him dying in the arena, or a sign that they think I can win this thing. Mom turns back to me and smiles, but I can see that the smile is wavering. She not convinced I can win this. It stings a little, but I know that she's not fully aware of how hard I've trained this last year.

"I can win this mom," I say. "I know I can."

"Of course you can honey." Her words are supposed to be encouraging, but they're bordering on empty platitudes. "We'll start packing for victor's village."

"Good luck princess." Daddy kisses me on the top of my head and glances over at Amino. "Son."

Amino nods his head slightly, acknowledging daddy, but doesn't leave the window. I give one last kiss to mom and they leave.

"Why do you have to be so sullen?" I ask Amino as soon as the door closes. I swear, he can make any event boring.

"Why do you have to be so obtuse?" He counters. My hackles raise and I can feel a fist balling up.

"Obtuse? I've actually been training for this, I have a chance of winning! Not like you! I bet you don't even make it out of the bloodbath. And if you think I'm gonna ally with you in the arena, then _you're_ the one being obtuse." Amino turns from the window at that and I clap my hands over my mouth as soon as the words are out. I don't mean it, of course I'm going to team up with him. I can't lose my other half! "I'm so sorry. That was out of line, I'm just a little freaked out right now. I mean, yeah, I wanted to go into the Games, but I didn't want _you_ going into them, especially at the same time."

"I know." Amino smiles at me and then his face hardens, looking past me. There are only a few times that I've ever seen him look hard, last time was when he found an abused puppy in our neighborhood. I turn and see my friends, my very best friends, crowded in the doorway. All thoughts of Amino are washed from my mind as I squeal at them. Viper and Katrina rush towards me, practically tackling me in a group hug. Viper is my sparring partner and Katrina has been working with me on my axe swings. They both know how badly I wanted to volunteer and are as thrilled as I am that I was reaped.

"Ohmygosh!" Katrina says, her excitement rushing all her words into one. "Ok, so I have your Victor Karenna logins, I'm gonna keep up the vlog for you so that your fans don't miss out on a single dose."

"Friends." Viper corrects. "She has friends, not fans."

"I think when you get past 150 you have to start calling them fans, and she's well over 180 by now." Katrina says. "We are the inner circle, her _real_ friends."

I laugh at the argument, it's the same one that we always have, sometimes I even join in. I don't really care what they're labeled, I am just thrilled to have such a huge team of supporters. They may even sponsor me in the games.

"Oh Karenna, I know you want this, but I'm so worried for you!" Milia bursts out, wiping her tear streaked cheeks. "You have no idea who is gonna get reaped, what if there is some huge beast of a guy in One, or some psychopath?"

"Oh honey," I pull Milia into a hug. She's a year younger than me and at 16 the games are a little more scary for her than they are for me. "I'm smart, I'm capable, I can win this."

I feel strong arms wrap around me from behind and feel moisture of tears on my back, I glance at the arms and see light brown hair and a tattoo of a pickaxe inked on taught muscled, tan forearms. Justin. My heart kicks into overdrive. His embrace is surprising, I've always wondered how it would feel to be wrapped in his arms, wishing he would hug me. And it's finally happened, though it's a little awkward with Milia hugging me at the same time and the two of them blubbering like babies. Milia I expected the tears from, Justin's crying is a shock to me. I've always had a crush on him but seeing him like this, I feel a little let down, crying all over me is definitely not hot.

"I wish you weren't going." he whispers against my neck, the soft breath tickling my insides and the lust returns, crying or no.

Milia, thank god, has the good sense to let go of me and let me turn to Justin. I skirt my eyes from his spoltchy red face and focus on his well sculpted arms instead.

"Why? We've never really been that close," I say. "I mean, we've hardly even talked."

"Well, you're kinda hard to get alone." he says, sniffing. He reaches out and cups my arm, pulling me slightly closer. His eyes have dried enough that I can look at him again without feeling the crushing disappointment. I gaze into his amazing eyes, marveling at how one is blue and the other is half blue, half green. His gaze is piercing and mesmerizing. "You've always got a crowd of around you, girlfriends... guys."

Guys? He cares that I have guy friends? I glance over at Viper and he cocks an eyebrow back at me. "You mean you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," Justin gives me a wavering smile and strokes his hand up my arms, a trail of goose bumps chases his touch. I swallow hard, he's so flipping gorgeous when he smiles. "For a while now, I was just trying to pick a good time to get you alone. Not that I'll ever get a chance now." His face crumples again and I look down so I don't have to see those gross splotches again.

"We can leave." Viper offers, ready to haul the others away. Justin glances over my shoulder to the wall clock and takes a nervous step back.

"No, it's ok." he wipes his nose on his sleeve and I almost gag. "I gotta go, I just wanted to say goodbye." He almost trips over himself as he runs out the door. My gaze follows him and that's when I see Freste, standing just inside the door. She's not saying anything, just watching us all with a slight smile on her face. She's been my best friend since we first shared crayons in school. She never really talks much in crowds, but I know I can always find her by my side. She's so loyal.

I look over at the clock ticking over Amino's head, there is still time to visit so I sit down on the couch and talk to Katrina about the vlog.

 **Amino POV**

The rage inside me takes a while to tamp down. I can't believe that Justin Piper, the little shit, had the nerve to say goodbye to my sister. He's lucky that her other friends were in the room because I would have strangled him if he'd tried anything with my sister. Sweet Karenna. She spends too much time talking and being the center of attention to listen and observe. If she were a little quieter she'd have seen through the tears to the dangerous man inside. Besotted as she is, she can't sense the predator in him. She doesn't know that he had rape on his mind.

I stood back and watched the little tableau unfold, the tears, the touches, I could hear the change is his tone as he worked his charm. When Viper offered to leave, I stepped away from the wall, ready to act if Justin made a move. My movement drew his attention and he saw me for the first time. I could almost taste the fear in the air. I couldn't help but smile as he ran out of the room. I studied Viper for a minute to see if he was in league with Justin, but it seemed like he was just trying to give my sister a minute alone with her crush. He's just as oblivious to the intent as Karenna.

With Justin gone I can feel the tension melting from me and I lean back against the wall to watch the others.

I think about what Karenna and my parents said about my needing to be watched over and needing my little sister. Their ignorance is almost funny. They assume I don't train for the games because I don't go down to the dojo with Karenna, or practice swordplay with mother. In truth I've been training harder than my sister. I've learned survival techniques, I have built up strength and endurance, I've learned to use my hands as weapons. They have no idea that I can kill a man in mere seconds, not that it's something I've actually timed.

Every action I take is calculated, even the way I dress. People look at my monochromatic dress, glasses and slight build and immediately think "nerd." The lethality below the surface doesn't often find it's way out. There isn't a lot that can get me worked up, but I don't abide by abuse of animals, and I won't let anyone hurt my little sister. There are some, like Justin, who sense the danger within me; those who are predators often sense the danger in others. That is the reason I could sense what Justin was hoping for, also, I know that he has raped one other girl. She commit suicide shortly after so he was saved from the whole community finding out, but I've kept a close eye on Karenna when ever he is nearby; that's the real reason why he has never had a chance to get her alone.

With my guard slightly relaxed I gaze past Karenna to Freste. Her slender neck calls out to me and I feel a slight twinge of regret. I'll never have my opportunity with her now. Like Justin, I was biding my time, though my intent is, of course, entirely different than his.

The hour grinds down and the peacekeepers escort Karenna's friends out. Freste smiles at me and waves when she leaves, it's the closest thing I have to a visitor. I walk over to Karenna and she grasps my hand, together we walk out the door to the sleek car waiting to take us to the train station.

 **Karenna POV**

The train station is bustling with activity. With two tributes, an escort and seventeen victors -most of them with luggage- it's quite an event to get everyone boarded. We won't need all 17 victors as mentors of course, but most of them go to the capitol every year to enjoy the Games with everyone in the capitol. I wonder who our mentors are going to be.

I hope I get Swift, her win at the Games three years ago was so amazing. It was down to her and the boy from Four, She's already bleeding and unable to move her right arm because of fighting off some mutts and he comes running at her with a harpoon, ready to shoot. You know she's just a gonner, then out of nowhere, she pulls up a loaded crossbow and with her left hand fires an arrow straight through his neck. It was gruesome, but how she came back from behind, it was awesome.

Chelle, our escort, leads Amino and I first to a sitting room. "You will be meeting your mentors soon; as soon as they are decided."

The districts that have more than one male or female victor have a sort of reaping for the mentors. If no one volunteers at the outset, or they have more than one volunteer, then they do a drawing. Not thirty seconds after Chelle seats us, the door opens and Amino and I turn to see our mentors enter the room. I'm a little crushed that Swift isn't my mentor, but Caliveria would be a cool mentor too. I don't really remember her Games, it was twelve years ago, before I really paid attention to the Games and her games were less climactic than some others so they don't really dominate the highlight reels each year. She is often at the dojo though, assisting the Sensei with training; she's a good teacher. Amino isn't as lucky with his mentor. Roman is in his mid-forties and balding with a bit of a gut. I know absolutely nothing about him beyond what his appearance tells me. He's dressed similarly to Amino with a gray-scale color scheme, but what looks dapper on Amino comes across as drab on the mentor.

"We should be arriving to the Capitol within the hour, if you would like to freshen up you're welcome to do that now." Chelle indicates a hand to the corridor to his left. I start in that direction and he leads me to my suite of rooms. They're a little cramped, but nicely appointed. I check my make up and decide that what I want to do more than anything else is take a nap.

 **Amino POV**

Karenna goes off to her room leaving me in the sitting room with the mentors. Caliveria also excuses herself but Roman stays in the sitting room with me. He's quiet, which suits me just fine. I spy a chess board off to the side and ask if he wants to play. He agrees and we settle in to a game. I love chess but almost never get to play for real. No one in my family likes the game, they would rather play checkers, knuckle or Omaha, games that take no strategy and rely mostly on luck. I wouldn't want to play them anyways, there is no challenge. I'm glad that Roman wanted to play, I can use the game as a litmus test, to see if he even understands strategy. No point in taking advice from someone who doesn't know what they're talking about. Only a few moves into the game it's clear that while he looks sloppy, he has a sharp mind, and he does know what he's doing.

"So, Roman," I say, initiating a conversation for perhaps the first time in my life. "Do you have any idea what kind of arena I'll be going in to?" Mentors aren't supposed to have this information, but I know that some of the smart ones get close to gamemakers to increase their tributes chances. Roman strikes me as the type.

"Why would I know that?" He cocks an eyebrow at me then glances at the corner of the ceiling above my left shoulder. Cameras. Of course there are cameras, the Capitol films everything. This conversation will take a little bit of finesse, but I'm feeling more and more confident that Roman can hold his own with being covert.

"I was just wondering if they had some sort of cycle or pattern that you've noticed." I say and move my knight. "Check."

He studies the board for a minute before answering then smiles, moving a bishop. Damn. That was a good move. "Well, I suppose if I looked at patterns I would guess that we were looking at a rather chilly Games this year."

Chilly, so it's probably going to be snowing. Great, the years with colder temps end up being full of gamemaker surprises, Mutts, traps, things like that. On the other hand, they are also the years that the supply packs are usually more plentiful. He's given my an idea for what I should focus on when we get to the training center though. I claim one of Roman's knights. Our stacks of claimed pieces are nearly the same size, I'm wondering if we'll have time to finish the game before we arrive at the Capitol.

"What year was your games?" I ask. I don't have the names and faces of all the victors memorized, but I do remember how each of the games were won. I particularly hate the years when a mediocre tribute wins out of sheer luck. Like the one with the obnoxious star crossed lovers. The girl from District Twelve was okay, I suppose, she at least had some decent moments but she got lucky with those muttations. Two would have had those games won if he hadn't fallen off the cornucopia. Don't get me started on the useless boy from twelve. He should have been killed the first day. No skills, not a tactical bone in his body. It was a mistake by the career pack to think that allying with him would help them in taking out the girl. I suppose since both of them were killed in the third Quarter Quell the scales balanced out.

"The 147th games. Check." He smiles at me and I can see how good his move is, I have a couple of options, but none of them are good. I start to move a rook, but change my mind and move a pawn instead. The 147th games, that year the winner had used a poisoned blow dart and hid in the trees picking off tributes. It was smart, he stayed out of danger, had a long range weapon and with the poison he was sure to have a kill shot, as long as he hit the target. There was another girl who used the same tactic in the second Quarter Quell, got pretty far too, but one of her district partners won instead. And that sonofabitch earned it, outsmarting not only the other players, but the arena itself using the force field around it as a weapon. "Checkmate."

I study the board, ready to dispute the loss, but I can't he's tied a noose nicely around me. Rage flares for a second that I've actually lost, but I squelch it and hold my hand out in congratulations. He shakes it firmly. "Well played."

Chelle walks through the compartment at a brisk clip and glances our direction. "We'll be arriving shortly, put that silly game away."

Anger furrows my brow, ignorant people often don't grasp the technical complexities of a well played chess game, writing it off as for the nerds. That's the problem with society, the frivolous is glorified while anything that requires intellect is regulated to a game. I had resigned to going into the Games with my usual goal of protecting my sister, but now... I'm here to win The Games. It's about time we had another victor with intelligence and cunning.

 **Now that we're into District 2, Favorites? Least Favorite? Predictions? How do you like the new format? District 3 will have the train ride and prep teams.**


	5. District 3 The Train

**Sorry for the really long delay in updating, I was working on a mix of things in addition to this chapter. Enjoy...**

 **Jamee Bolts POV**

I sit on the train and stare at the food on the plate in front of me. I know I should eat something while I can, but I can't seem to force anything down. The fingers of my left hand idly stroke the thin gold chain around my wrist. Jared told me it was his good luck charm when he gave it to me, and considering the scrapes he used to get in back when he was in school, it's not too far fetched that he has a lucky charm. Then again, maybe by brother's luck is within him. Heaven knows that there was no luck left in the gene pool by the time I came along six years after him. I mean, how unlucky does one have to be to be born into district three without a mechanical bone in your body? I try hard in school, but the ins and outs of technology are just lost on me.

I glance over at Millard, the boy who was reaped, and feel almost worse for him than I feel for myself. He's quiet and smart, just the kind of guy who could really have a great career in district 3, but not exactly victor material. I doubt I'll be the victor either, but at least I have a bit of a skill. Or at least, I bet my accuracy with paper airplanes could translate into some sort of weaponry. I've never touched a weapon, so who knows if it will be that much different. I pick up my butter knife and try to picture throwing it like an airplane.

Cheeta, our escort, sets down her fork and looks from me to Millard, back to me again. "Well, aren't we a talkative bunch?" Millard snorts and we both look over at him. Our mentor, Techtra, is about 70 years old, half blind, and focused on trying to scoop peas from her plate. Her hand is shaking so violently that it takes four tries for her to get a single pea to her mouth. At that point she gives up the pretense of manners and starts scooping food up with her fingers. She doesn't even notice the conversation going around her.

"What are we supposed to talk about?" Millard asks, his voice barely audible. "It's not like we're best friends. It's not like you and Techtra are going to bestow any pearls of wisdom upon us. And it's not like it matters since we'll be dead in a couple of weeks." Techtra does look up at this and throws a pea at Millard. He yelps in surprise, but she has already started doing something. With painstaking slowness, she unravels her wire bracelet and stabs an end into her porkchop. Then, equally slow, she wraps the other end around her spoon and rubs some other metal thing on it. I feel like I recognize the metal thing, but can't place the name of it. When she's done she silently beckons Millard to come and take the spoon. He rolls his eyes and walks around the table to her. Then he picks up the spoon and his whole body goes rigid. Cheeta screams, Millard slumps to the floor and Techtra cackles softly.

"Oh my god!" I say, jumping up away from the table. "Did you just kill him?" Our mentor is supposed to help us survive in the arena, not kill us before we get there. Techtra shakes her head and smiles a toothless grin at me. She picks up the spoon, using her napkin, and tips her glass of water over on to Millard. He sputters and sits up, whipping his head around from side to side as if trying to gain his bearings and look for an attacker.

His eyes land on Techtra and I'm wondering if he's going to attack her. I mean, she's an old lady and all, but if he decides to attack her I have to say, I think he's justified. "That was brilliant!" he says. It's the first time I've heard him say anything louder than a mumble. "Can you show us how to do that?"

Techtra spends the rest of the trip trying to show us how to turn a chunk of meat and some wire into a weapon, and while Millard seems to catch on, I'm still in the dark. The only thing I've managed to do was shock my own hand a little. After about twenty minutes I give up and leave them to their stupid wires.

 **Millard POV**

In one hour, my mentor has shown me more kindness and taught me more than my father has in the seven years since my mom died. I think he blames me for her dying, and for a while, I blamed myself. She had fallen down the stairs one day and broke her neck. I was only six and I didn't know what to do so I just kept trying to wake her up. When my father got home from work I was crying and screaming and telling him I couldn't wake up my mom. He yelled at me to stop crying and sat on the floor holding my mom. He asked me what I did to her and told me it was all my fault. I learned that day to stay quiet and not open up. I'm older now and know there was nothing I could have done, but I've never really opened back up. My father and I were never close again either. Even today, when we said goodbye in the justice building, my friends were excited that I could become a victor, and I almost could believe them, but my father reminded me that there's no way I can win. He gave me a hug for the first time in years, but it felt forced, like he thought he was obligated to do it. When he released the hug and said "At least now I'll have justice" I knew that he didn't love me anymore.

I boarded the train ready to die. When Techtra electrocuted me with her spoon it sparked a fire, I wanted to learn more. I've always loved learning. I've spent hours poring over books that my mother had, topics like computer programming, survival in nature, calculus, world history and hovercraft engineering. Most of it was stuff that would have really served me well after I finished school and got a job within our district industry, now only a few things I've learned are relevant. I can build a fire without matches, I know a ton about plant identification and I could probably build a decent shelter from scratch. I remember my father mocking me when I was reading the survival book, saying that I'd never have any use for any of that. I guess I'll show him now.

By the time we've reached the Capitol, Techtra has taught me how to use wire as weapon in four different applications, and how to reprogram the door locks on the train. Jamee lost interest not long into our lessons and spent the whole trip watching the scenery pass by and playing with a bracelet.

The Capitol is even more magnificent than it seems on television. Our train is almost archaic in the bustling metropolis, no other vehicle is on the ground. In the sky above us there are personal hovercars zooming around, between them dozens of jetestrians zip along, their jet packs allowing them to weave between, below and over the snarl of traffic. The streets are packed with people cheering our arrival. With the brightly color hair and skin of so many it looks like a candy bowl. The train has slowed so that the Capitol citizens can get a look at us and we're able to get a good look at them too. I see several people wearing a device on their wrist that my father was one of the head designers for. It is a hologram clothing apparatus. The user can select from a set of pre-programmed outfits, or program one of their own. When they activate it, the apparatus projects the chosen outfit on to their body giving the illusion of clothes when they're really walking around with nothing on. The Wardrobe-on-a-wrist are the current fashion accessory of the elite. People really love the convenience of not having to have a closet full of clothes, never having to do laundry, and being able to change their outfit at the touch of a button. I just wish they'd came up with a better name for it. Maybe Virtual Versace or something. That's the problem with District 3 we have a ton of analytic brains but they don't lend to a lot of creativity when it comes to naming their inventions.

The crowd starts to blur together like a watercolor, there are so many people it's impossible to spot an individual anymore. The train pulls in to the station at the Capitol and Cheeta comes back into the sitting room.

"Come along children. Your prep teams are waiting." He leaves as quickly as he arrived and we follow him off the train and into the fuchsia and turquoise building. We're handed over to our own candy colored teams and we're whisked away to get ready for the opening ceremonies.

 **Jamee POV**

Who knew that there was so much hair on the human body? I sure didn't, and I didn't realize that removing all the hair would be so utterly painful. When the first warm wax strip was applied I thought that the prep would be a nice pleasant experience. Then Vidia, one of the girls on my prep team, rubbed it in to my leg and yanked it off, it was like she was trying to remove my skin! I yelped in pain and wasn't too keen on letting her get near me again. I looked to the other two, hoping for an ally against the torture but they didn't seem to care about me getting flayed alive. I looked close at Vidia's deep purple skin, hoping I could tell her that it wasn't fair to torture me and that she had no idea how bad it hurt, but I could see she was completely hairless. Well, other than her two inch long gold eyelashes and the giant sponge of tight gold curls atop her head. She applied a second strip and I tried not to yelp this time.

After all the hair was removed, the other girl on the team, Pink -who has bright yellow skin and black hair- rubbed a thick lotion all over my skin that soothed the tender skin and have me a silvery sheen. I thought that would be the end of the prep because what else could they do, really? But Elysium, the one guy on the team, had more in store. My hair was washed, trimmed and my natural curl was given some oomph.

Elysium and Pink are just finishing putting make up on me when an older lady with too tight skin comes in the room. "We're almost at beauty base zero" Vidia says and the lady nods. When the make up is finished, the lady dismisses the team and invites me to sit down.

"Hello," her voice is deep and gravelly, like she has spent her life screaming at people. "My name is Tareeva, I'm your stylist." She coughs violently and pulls a small metal tin from her pocket. She plucks out a cigarette and taps the end against the tin. The tin heats up and whisps of smoke float up. She sucks on the end for a while before speaking again. "We're going to do an old fashioned idea for your opening ceremony outfit. Have you ever heard of a computer chip?"

I'm so mesmerized by the smoke curling out of her mouth while she's talking that it takes me a second to catch up to what she said. "A computer chip? No, what is it?"

Tareeva starts laughing, then coughing, then wheezing, then starts sucking on the cigarette again. "You kids today, you don't know nothing. A computer chip used to be the height of technology. We've of course surpassed it by leaps and bounds, but that's neither here nor there." She finishes the cigarette and pushes a button on the table next to her. A small hole opens up and she drops the unused portion into the hole. "Well, that's what you're going to be. A computer chip. Come along. Let's get you dressed."

I stand and follow her to a big, nearly empty, white room. On a table in the middle is a fat metal bracelet. Tareeva picks it up, snaps it on my writs and pushes a button. I look down and grimace at the image that the bracelet has plastered on to me. I am green. Green with silver dots and stripes running every which way. I can't think of anything less likely to attract a sponsor than what I have on. "This is it?" I ask.

"That's it." Tareeva says. She opens her tin and lights another cigarette. "Let's go to the chariots."

 **Millard POV**

My favorite person on the prep team is ironically named Kandee – with a K and two E's she is specific to point out- She has fluffy, baby pink hair that looks like cotton, her skin has been dyed hot pink with pure white stripes which coordinate with her skin-tight, hot pink dress. She delicately shaved my face with a straight razor, even though I've yet to have grown even the slightest hint of a beard. I think she took pity on me since it's unlikely that I'll ever really have a chance to shave. I tried to keep from looking at her chest as she hovered so close, but it was right in my face and the dress really drew attention to her curves.

I keep myself clean and trimmed so my prep team didn't have a whole lot that they could do with me. They touched up the tips of my nails and styled my hair with some blue gel, but even with the superfluous shave, they were done with their basic prep in less than an hour. I thought this was a really long time to spend on getting cleaned up, but the prep team exclaimed over and over that they had nothing to do for hours now because I didn't give them any challenge.

Pepper, one of the guys on my prep team, -the only one who didn't color his skin, probably because it is already a rich chocolate color- leaves the room to go get my stylist. I wonder who the stylist will be since the last District 3 stylist quit on live television during the last games. She made a big spectacle and had to be escorted away by peacekeepers. Pepper returns with a man in his early twenties, maybe.

The stylist also has not colored his skin, though his hair is the brightest red I've ever seen in my life. "Hello Millard," he says. "My name is Danglars, I'll be your stylist for these games."

"Hi." I say. He waves away my prep team and they leave.

"I had a great idea of what I wanted to do for District 3 when I was assigned but these damned games..." He sighs and look out the window. "They just aren't giving any of us a choice. What we have to do is a throwback design. Something that represents the roots of your district industry."

He gets quiet and I start to feel awkward. I don't know what the roots of our industry might be or why it would be a problem. "So what will my costume be?"

Danglars turns to look at me and smirks. "I'm sure my partner is going to use that new Wardrobe-on-a-wrist trash, but if we're going old school, then I'm going to do it right." He walks over to the wall and pushes on a button. The wall slides open and we go into a bright, white room with a big, bulky costume on a stand in the middle. I recognize it immediately from my history books. I'll be dressed as a computer. Not just any computer, but one of the old generation desktop computers. There is a helmet that is essentially a giant angled box with vents in the back. The front is solid black and shines like glass, the rest is a light brownish cream color with a dull finish. The shirt is patterned with a keyboard with a clunky mouse design down one sleeve. The pants are solid black and about as tight as Kandee's dress.

My hopes of sponsorship have just been deleted. I put on the costume like I'm instructed and we head down to the chariots.

Danglars was right, Jamee is wearing a Wardrobe-on-a-wrist and the outfit projected is one that I recognize, again from history books. She's a motherboard. When she sees me she starts laughing.

"Wow!" she says when the giggle subside. "I thought my costume was bad, but yours looks ridiculous." I'm annoyed at this part because she's right, and part because this silly girl who can't even figure out basic electronics might have a slightly better chance than me at winning. I shouldn't let it annoy me and soon we'll probably both be dead, but I feel petulant and petty. When she walks past me towards the chariot, I stick out my foot tripping her. The wrist device does just what I was hoping it would do, it shorts out and she lays on the floor naked for a minute while the device resets. I smirk behind my helmet at her girly screams and walk past her to the chariot.

Her outfit reappears and she stands up quickly checking to make sure that the hologram has her covered, then she stomps over to the chariot. "You're gonna regret that," she says. "I swear you won't make it out of that arena alive. I'm going to send you home in a box." For a second I'm marveling at how cute she is when she's pissed. Then I'm worried that she just might kill me, but there will be 22 others out there trying to kill me too, maybe I'll get lucky and kill her off first. Either way, it looks like the next few weeks will be a little more interesting.

 **What do you guys think of the new format now that we're a couple chapters in? Is it working? Favorites? Least favorites? Predictions?**


	6. District 4 Opening Ceremonies

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the long delay between updates. I was working on an original fiction story to get it ready to submit to a publisher. Now that it's sent out and waiting for a reply, I was finally able to get back to this story. I give you District 4...

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 **Emma Hemmings POV**

"See, this is why I just adore prepping the district four tributes." Audacity says. "With all that saltwater and sun they all have such beautiful hair and skin!" The sage green cabbage rose pattern of Audacity's dress is continued down her arms in a mildly ridiculous tattoo and I watch the roses float around as she rakes a comb through my long, bottle-blonde hair. I don't have the heart to tell her that the sun-kissed glow isn't natural. Gone is the elaborate braid, complete with gems, seashells and baby starfish that my mother had woven for the reaping. After a washing and drying, my hair now falls loose, in the stylist chair it reaches all the way to the floor.

"Um," I say. "Thank you." What do you really say to something like that? Apparently I didn't need to say anything because none of them acknowledge that I open my mouth.

"Stand up so I can smooth your skin." Sparkle -presumably either named for the glittering rhinestones embedded in her skin, or perhaps embellished because of the name- rubs a glittering lotion all over my body; making me sparkle as the light flickers across my naked flesh. She sweeps my mane of hair aside to apply the lotion to my back, buttocks and legs, and I wonder how much of my body is going to be showing for the opening ceremonies.

My hair tickles the back of my knees when it is released and I feel a little less vulnerable with at least my back half covered. If there had been a guy in the room I might feel self-conscious about my body being on display, but thankfully my whole prep team is female. I try to imagine these same ladies prepping my brother, Mike, fiddling with his hair and rubbing lotion on him, but I can only see them giggling and drooling over him. I gag a little at the idea. I love my brother, but a girl can only watch people fawn over her twin for so long before it gets old.

"I know we're just supposed to get her to beauty base zero, but I'd love to paint her nails a purple haze color to go with these streaks in her hair." Regency, who obviously loves purple, given the lavender hue of her skin and the rich violet eyes rimmed with matching, lush eyelashes, flicks one of my purple highlights with her own three inch fingernails and gets the bright yellow talon tangled in the long strands.

"It's a good thing you're not a stylist then." a deep male voice from behind makes me jump a little. Oh god. My stylist is a guy? Why don't they at least let me have a robe?

The prep team steps back and I stand rigid and terrified. Why oh why is he going to look at me naked? I want to cover myself but I resist the childish urge. I'm not the first tribute to have to stand naked for observation, and I'm far from the last. As the stylist approaches though, I can't help but pinch my eyes shut. I stand for a few minutes, waiting to die of embarrassment, or for the stylist to pick apart my flaws.

"This looks fine," he says. "Go ahead and put a robe on and join me for lunch, sweetheart."

My eyes pop open in surprise at the endearment and I catch a glimpse of my stylist for the first time. He's young, very young for a stylist. He can't be older than his early twenty's. The first thing I see are the piercing green eyes that are still raking my body. His perfectly shaped lips are curled into a slight smile and I picture his strong hands wrapped in my hair, as I run my fingers through his short-cropped brown hair. I have to clench my thighs against the warmth that suddenly hits me hard and low.

If I were the type of girl to jump a guys bones, I would definitely enlist my stylist for a last hurrah before going into the arena. He's not dressed in an elaborate getup like the prep team, instead his tan, muscled arms are hugged by the short sleeves of a white cotton shirt. The blue denim pants and black boots only serve to make him even more rugged. If I didn't know he were a stylist in the capitol, I'd think he were a poster-boy from District 7, straight out of the lumber yard.

Thankfully, he turns away from me and Regency hands me a robe. The electricity in the air breaks and the heat now flushes my cheeks. I slip gratefully into the robe, shocked at such a reaction to my stylist. I've never had such a strong physical reaction to a man before. Not even Bartek. Horror slams into my gut and I swallow hard as I think of my fiance. Engaged not even a day yet and I'm having fantasies about another man. I wrap the robe tighter around me than is necessary and I cross over to the separate sitting room where the stylist is sitting. There is food all over the table next to him and he gestures for me to sit across from him.

I perch on the edge of the seat, keeping the robe held tight at my throat and knees.

"Go ahead and grab a plate and-" The stylist glances at me and takes in the death-grip I have on the robe. He laughs softly, stands up and walks around the table towards me. I clench the robe even tighter and my eyes flair at him. My heart races and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. Half of me is convinced that if he touches me I'll scream; the other half knows I might moan. He stands above me and looks down as I shiver and look up into his eyes.

"Stand up." He says.

I slowly obey, though I don't know how I manage to stand on legs made of jell-o. His fingers brush against my neck as he touches the collar of my robe and I have to bite my lip to keep back what I'm afraid might be a moan. I close my eyes again in an attempt to block out the visions of what his fingers could do, and I feel his fingers trace a line down the front of the robe, pausing every few inches.

"There," he says. "That will make it easier to eat."

I open my eyes, confused, and look down at the robe. The robe is pinned in several places so that I'm covered from chin to calf. He's still standing in front of me, the smile looking suspiciously like a smirk.

"Thank you..." I trail off, realizing I don't know his name.

"Justin." He sits back down and resumes loading food onto his plate.

"I'm-" He cuts me off before I can introduce myself.

"Emma Hemmings, 18 years old, daughter of Bella Thorpe, winner of the 155th games and Edward Hemmings, winner of the 151st games." Justin recites my bio from memory and I feel stupid that I even felt I had to introduce myself. "If I had to bet, I'd say that if it weren't for the rules of the quarter-quell, your twin brother, Michael, might have been the one sitting with me right now."

"It should have been Mike in this chair. It's what he's wanted since we were ten, to be a tribute in the quarter-quell. He's probably more than a little pissed that I'm here and not him." I fiddle with a strand of hair, running my fingers through it, looking for snags like I do when I'm nervous, but the prep team has done so good a job that I'm smoothing my fingers through silk.

"Well Emma," I look up and see Justin watching my fingers sliding through my hair. "No offense to your brother, but I'm glad it's you here. Much better view."

My cheeks flush again and I pick up my plate as a subtle change of subject. I survey the options laid out before me and groan. Smoked salmon, baked trout, fried catfish, cioppino, clam chowder, shellfish bisque, oysters on a half shell. Fish, so original. I hate fish, the smell, the texture, the taste. I'm surrounded by it at home and don't say anything because of course, a girl from district 4 hating fish would be such an atrocity that I'd have been mocked endlessly. I was really hoping that leaving district 4 I could have some crisp fruit salad or even a steak.

"Something wrong?" Justin picks up an oyster shell and tips the slimy blob into his mouth. I nearly gag and look away quickly. How on earth could anyone think that oysters are an aphrodisiac? They're so disgusting.

"I hate fish," I blurt out, then laugh at how silly it is that I've never said it out loud before. "Could I maybe have some red meat?"

The grin on Justin's face is devastating and I smile in return. "How about a hamburger?" He offers.

"Anything's fine," I say. "As long as it's not fish."

 **Tyler Austin POV**

"I can't believe I have to shave this off!" Kitty reaches around from behind and strokes the neat trim of my beard and pouts at me. "I really think this sexy beard of yours could reel in a lot of sponsors." She leans in close and I feel the brush of her lips on my ears. "I'd sponsor you in a heartbeat," she whispers. "If I could." She stands back up straight and with a small pair of scissors continues trimming my hair in the back.

"Honey, it doesn't matter what we do," Violet finishes buffing my nails and winks at me. "We could dress him in rags or send him out there naked and he's gonna get sponsors." I wink back at her and grin.

"Ooh!" Velveteen hops up from massaging my feet and lands in my lap. "I vote for naked!" He bats his eyes at me and I throw back my head and laugh.

"And how exactly would me being naked signify fishing?"

"Who cares?" Velveteen wraps his arms around my neck and nuzzles my chin.

"It's been four hours. Aren't you done yet?"

Velveteen scrambles off my lap faster than a jackrabbit. He lines up next to Violet and Kitty, the three of them contrite and embarrassed.

"We just need to shave his beard." Kitty says, lowering her eyes to the ground. I almost feel bad for her.

Everyone is quiet for a minute while I stare at my stylist and he stares back at me. My initial thought is that I think he'll be a good stylist. He has obviously put a lot of effort into his own style. His longish brown hair is shaggy in a way that makes me think he spent an hour in front of a mirror getting it just right; the square, black rimmed glasses around his green eyes appear to be more for fashion than function. His white button-up shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing multiple colorful tattoos the full length of both forearms. The tails of the shirt are tucked into some black skinny jeans which have the ankles rolled up an inch or so to show the socks beneath. The suspenders, bow tie and socks are all cherry red, popping color against the monochromatic outfit. He strokes his thin, neatly trimmed beard, then nods his head. "Leave the beard. I think it'll work in our favor. You can go now."

Kitty squeals a little, and they leave the room. The stylist shakes his head and chuckles. "I'm James, your stylist. We'll get some food then get you into your costume for the opening ceremonies." James turns from me and walks towards an adjoining room. "Oh, and put some clothes on man, I don't want to see your junk."

I shrug into the robe that the prep team left for me and follow James to a table covered with food. I load up a plate with as much as it will hold and sit down to eat. I grip a crab leg and snap it in half, then pull the flesh out of the shell. "I'm Tyler by the way, Tyler Austin." I wipe the juices of the crab off my hands and reach out to shake hands.

"Yeah," James nods at me but doesn't take my hand. "I watched the reaping and I've already received your dossier. I probably know more about you than even your mother at this point."

I withdraw my outstretched hand and shrug, then resume eating. "So, what's our getup going to be?"

"You know Poseidon?"

"God of the Sea?" I quirk an eyebrow and grin. "Cool."

"Yeah, well, you're close. You'll be his son."

I pause mid-bite and groan. "I'm going to be a freaking mermaid?"

"Merman." James corrects me. "And yeah, what better way to represent fishing than with merfolk? Besides, with your physique, you'll get a dozen sponsors easy just from the chariot ride if we do this right."

He glances at the slim watch on his wrist. "Speaking of which, the prep team spent so long drooling over you that we need to cut lunch short and get you dressed."

"Dressed" is a very loose term for the amount of fabric on my body. The green, shimmering wrap is absurd, with fin-like fabric flared out at my hips, a slight train that I guess is supposed to resemble the tail, and a V-shaped waistline that dips much closer to my cup than I would like. A shark tooth necklace is the only thing I wear on my upper body, other than my token -a turquoise pin of a swordfish- which is pinned to a black band around my bicep. I'm not surprised, the tributes from District 4 are never fully clothed. I just wish I weren't basically wearing a skirt.

James and my prep team circle me like sharks, occasionally reaching out to adjust this, or smear glimmering lotion on that, until they are satisfied with my look.

"Good job team," James says. "I think Poseidon would be proud." He leaves the prep area and leads the way to the staging area for the opening ceremonies. I follow along, almost forgetting how nearly naked I am. Almost. We arrive at the chariot before Emma and her team and I wonder if she'll be a mermaid too. I hope not. She's freaking hot as it is, and if she's in nothing but a wrap and a seashell bra I am in for a massively uncomfortable chariot ride.

A troupe of girls run up to my prep team and I angle my head, trying to catch a glimpse of Emma. All I can see is a curled wisp of her honey and plum hair brushing against some teal satin at her thigh. Her stylist steps aside and I get a full view of her gorgeous body. So much more than I ever thought I'd see. The wrap for her is skin tight, following the curve of her hips but is open more in the front, showing off her long golden tan legs. Like mine, the waist dips low on her hips, beckoning me to follow V of her waistline. Avoiding that dangerous path, I snap my eyes up to her face, her cove blue eyes are lined in black, making their color pop. The purple eye make up complements the streaks of plum purple in her hair. Even her lips while a deep red, have a hint of purple, just at the inside of her pouty bottom lip.

My gaze traces the curve of her neck, to her collarbone and down. A diamond and sapphire encrusted seahorse rests at her neck on a slender silver chain, but I barely notice it. When my gaze reaches her chest I stop short and my breath catches. They didn't put her in a seashell bra. She's topless. Her hair is artfully arranged to cover her breasts but knowing that there is nothing but a layer of silky blonde hair between me and those breasts gets me hard as a diamond. How do they expect me to stand so close to her on the chariot and not put my hands all over her?

I swallow hard and wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on my skirt. The slippery fabric absorbs nothing.

"Hey," she smiles at me, her lip quavering a bit.

"Uh, h-hi," I try to think of something slick to say. "Like my skirt?" She blinks at me and I give a crooked smile. What an idiot.

 **Emma POV**

I blink a couple times, then giggle at Tyler, grateful that he's cracking jokes. I'm nauseated at the idea of standing on the chariot dressed as I am, with only a small strip of cloth and my own hair as protection from the eyes of the nation. His cracking jokes eases some of the tension.

"Yeah, but I think it looks better on me." I joke back. He gives me a pained look and adjusts his stance. I can't help notice he looks uncomfortable. Did I say something wrong?

"No shit. I mean-" he swallows and rakes his fingers through his hair then shrugs. "I guess you look alright. We should probably get ready to head out." He turns away from me and steps up onto the chariot. The blow of rejection hits me in the gut and I throw dagger eyes his way. Why should I care what he thinks. Granted, at least 6 foot 4, with a body chiseled and honed so that he almost looks like a statue of Poseidon, but he's not superior to me. Nonetheless, I look down to see what about me might have made him turn in disgust, but even I can't deny that the stylist made me look beautiful.

I step up onto the chariot next to him and stare straight ahead. If he wants to give the cold shoulder, then two can play at that game. He might think he's something special, but I'll be damned if I'll let his pretty boy charm steal any of my sponsors. I plaster a toothpaste ad grin on my face as soon as the chariot starts it's decent down the city street towards the city center.

When Justin arranged my hair I was worried that the wind might blow the hair away from it's designated place and reveal more of me than I'd like. He assured me that the spray he applied to my skin would keep the hair in place, but I wasn't sure I believed him. Now, standing next to Mr. Smug, I almost hope Justin was wrong. If I have a wardrobe malfunction I'm sure to land more sponsors than him.

I wave enthusiastically to the crowd, turning this way and that, making sure to share my attention with everyone. I shoot a glance over to Tyler and see he's also laying on the charm. The snake. I thrust my shoulders back and lean forward on the rail of the chariot, making sure he doesn't show me up.

One of my adoring fans throws a rose at us and I reach out to try to catch it, but it hits one of the horses in the face instead. The horse rears up and paws the air, jostling the chariot and making me fall off balance. I stumble into Tyler and he catches me, keeping me from falling.

The horse rights himself and continues pulling us toward the city center, but I'm no longer paying attention to the crowd. I'm paying attention to the surprisingly strong arms around my waist, the lightly scruffy beard inches from my face, the warm hand that is almost touching my breast. I look into his sea-foam green eyes and see what can only be hunger. I lick my lips lightly nip the bottom lip. There is no chilly indifference between us now. Only heat, rolling in waves, swirling like a hurricane.

"You alright there?" His voice is husky and low, and only for me. I nod and he helps me stand up, letting his hand slide slowly down my side and across my bare stomach. We break apart and I finally notice the catcalls and whistles from the crowd. What the hell is wrong with me? First Justin, now him? It's like my hormones know what I've got into here and are trying their best to give me one last hurrah before I head into the arena. Well it's not going to happen. Tribute or not, I'm engaged and a sexy as hell stylist, and the way-too-hot-for-my-own-good Tyler aren't going to sway me.

My lips tremble slightly as I get the grin back and resume waving to the crowd, careful now to keep both feet flat on the chariot.

 **Tyler POV**

My skin is warm where it touched hers and I can tell she felt it, he heady lust pulsing between us. She's smiling and waving for the crowd again, but I can tell she's paying attention to me, not them. I also resume my efforts to charm the sponsors. I intentionally stay close to her, letting our wraps brush against each other, the silky fabric sliding like water. I know that the announcers and the crowd caught our whole interaction. Unless something spectacular happens with one of the other chariots, we'll be the talk of the night on the recap. You gotta love serendipitous little events that can make the ordinary extraordinary.

We circle the center and line up in front of the presidents house. President Rayne smiles at us all, and maybe I imagine it, but it seems like her gaze lingers on me and Emma longer than the others. I glance at Emma and she is staring straight ahead, ignoring me. I know our little contact has her rattled. I realize it's something I can use to my advantage. If I can keep her off balance, maybe even get her in the sack and pull her emotional strings I could weave this little moment into leverage in the arena.

I cross my fingers that we end up in the same alliance when the allies are chosen.

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Favorite characters? Least Favorites? Any predictions so far? Please be sure to favorite and review. Hopefully the updates will be coming faster now.


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